


Seize the Means of Production

by arcaladiwoompa



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestors, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/F, F/M, Light Bondage, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 22:45:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11999481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcaladiwoompa/pseuds/arcaladiwoompa
Summary: The entire premise of this fic was to write Condy / Signless with Signless on top.  :'D Close enough.





	Seize the Means of Production

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sabaku_no_gaara_ai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaku_no_gaara_ai/gifts).



Lightheaded with thirst, her feet dragging through the sand without the energy left for flight, Her Imperious Condescension pinpoints the exact moment when everything started going to shit. After her army failed to crush the hidden gatherings that seemed to multiply like hopbeasts and always cropped up in a different place, she woke up one night to a reality in which culling dissidents filled the remaining lowblooded scum with spite instead of fear. Her workers and slaves escaped in vast numbers. Those who remained set down their tools and refused to work, resisting to the point of starvation. They destroyed her supply chain and her army, too, began to starve.

When even the subjuggulators refused to share the fruit of their savage raids, the Condesce learned that loyalty cannot survive on an empty stomach. She has become an exile in her own empire. Just as she is forced to hunt for her own food for the first time in centuries, the surrounding wilderness has largely been picked clean by the deserters and peasantry before her. Fuck ‘em. She’s going home, back to cold salt water and shoals of fish, back to her lusus and her outgrown old hive, where she’ll wait out the apocalypse until every last filthy traitor dies of old age. 

The rebels were expecting her. In an instant her seemingly empty surroundings explode into a halo of red and blue light and a thick ring of excited onlookers all jostling to get a good look. Well shit, at least a proper ambush is a sign of civilization. Why even bother to fight back? At this point it’s almost a relief. She sighs with resignation as her gold trident is wrested from her hands, ready for a nice long sulk. “Just krill me. I’m tired.” 

“Hey KR!” Her assailant has four horns; the rest of his body is all elbows and knees. He lisps into the crowd, “Someone needs a nap more than you do!” 

A stubby-horned midget with a stubborn chin and eyes like hot coals emerges at the center of the group, gesticulating with his hands. “Psii, that isn’t an appropriate introduction.” 

“Everyone knows her, everyone knows you. Who the fuck needs an introduction?” 

“Language,” the Signless and a willowy jadeblood scold him in unison. Pausing in a moment of mortification, Signless goes quiet and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

The Ψiioniic cackles at him. “Yes _mother_.”

This scraggly band of losers has ransacked her empire, captured her and disarmed her, yet the fact that insults the Condesce the most is that they’ve stolen the center of attention while _she’s right here_ , damn it. She puffs up her cheeks and pouts, emitting a short, huffy growl. 

“Ah yes. We have to do something about you,” the Signless sighs, studying her as if noticing her for the first time. “Please accept my apologies for what I’m about to do.” 

Finally a chance for some theatrics. The Condesce raises her chin in defiance as the Signless handcuffs her wrists. “You gonna make an example of me?” 

“Yes, but not in the way that you think.” 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

His words conjure up torture within the limits of her imagination as a solid wall of olive-blooded muscle and bouncing curls takes hold of her by the arms and the Ψiioniic backs well away with a grimace of distaste. The Signless clamps psychic restraints onto the Condesce’s horns, leaving her weak all the way to her knees. Well? She steels herself for a blow that never comes. Then he presses a flask of water into her enfeebled hands. She blinks. Is this a joke? The Condesce can’t decide whether she is getting mixed messages or heat stroke. 

“We’ll talk later. Let’s get you out of the sun.” 

The Disciple marches her aboard a docked wooden sailing ship and locks her into a tiny cabin. The space is cramped by the Condesce’s standards – a bit musty but clean; blissfully dark with the shutters closed. She doesn’t really like the idea of being left all alone, but she also doesn’t want to be watched while she guzzles her tepid water like it’s an expensive birthday gift she bought for herself. Feeling marginally better, the Condesce stumbles her way into a hammock barely large enough to accommodate her body, which at least is more comfortable than passing the fuck out on the floor. One minute of gently swelling waves, one homesick whiff of sea breeze and she’s snoring like a grub.

***

“Alright, everyone who isn’t on watch, go back to sleep. Quietly. Shoo, all of you.” 

Finally. The only thing stopping the Signless from pacing restlessly in front of her door was the fear of waking her back up. He sits down heavily on a crate, rubbing at his temples with both hands. “Well, that went better than expected.” 

“Why do you look so down about it then?” 

“There’s so much _work_ left to be done it’s unfathomable. What about the Subjuggulators, Psii? And the rogue deserters, and the bandits, and the drones, and the gamblignants, and the spoiled crops, and the Rift Carbuncle, and the _total anarchy_ every time I look away for one hot second? All the wishful thinking in the world won’t make this Empire manage itself. Law without compassion is cruel; compassion without law is naïve.” 

The Ψiioniic frowns. “So you’re saying we still need her.” 

“She’s going to laugh in my face and watch me fail.” 

“Seriously KR? After everything you’ve accomplished? She can’t afford _not_ to listen.” He still doesn’t look convinced. “Hey, I believe in you.” 

“I know.” 

“And we’ve got your back.” 

“I know.” 

“Go to sleep, idiot.” 

He gets up and punches the Ψiioniic lightly in the shoulder. He lays down and he tries, he really tries. 

***

“Hungry?” 

Ravenous. Her low body temperature makes her metabolism far slower than a rustbood- or however the fuck cherry red is supposed to work- but she’s been overusing her psionics and walking until her legs ache and it’s been _days_. She doesn’t want to acknowledge the mutant. She will deny to her grave that the smoky, lightly seasoned smell of some kind of meat roasting over a fire outside – peasant food – is making her mouth water. The Condesce bristles under the glare of his full attention. Signless smiles encouragement and helps her sit up – his arm so unexpectedly warm and muscular. Change of plans. Hello yes, she’d like to wrestle _that_ to the ground. Who knew he’s been hiding fabulous abs under that heavy sun cloak all along? Bet they’d look even better if she tore that spandex fashion disaster off his chest. 

Hmm, tempting. But for now she is swayed by the roasted auroch haunch he’s offering instead. She grabs hold using both cuffed hands and shamelessly tears into the meat with the same vehemence she would just as soon inflict upon his outstretched hands. 

“I’ll take that as a yes. As you must have guessed by now, I have no intention of killing you, nor do I wish to keep you imprisoned indefinitely. I’m terribly sorry.” 

Smug, lying little shit. He doesn’t look sorry at all. “This is a temporary measure until I feel that I can trust you. All I ask for the moment is that you open your ears.” 

He isn’t going to give her a choice, of course. 

Point: Neither would she. 

Point: At least he isn’t directly threatening her with a weapon, unless one counts the wary, watchful eyes of the Disciple, who fills the entire frame of the doorway behind him like a bouncer in an exclusive nightclub. 

Point: Breakfast in bed. 

Maybe if she listens, she can find out exactly what it is makes this short, unarmed, dull-toothed, _detestable_ misfit such a formidable opponent. 

“Imagine if you will, a workforce bound to you by ties of loyalty, driven by their passions instead of their fears. Wouldn’t it be so much easier for you to govern if the populace was naturally inclined to do what you want them to do without having to be forced to do so? If, so to speak, the gears turned by themselves? If we could see eye to eye on some level?” 

Of _course_ , she can’t believe it was so simple all along. “I sea how it is, mutie. Good old fashioned bribery. Impressive how ya hooked all these nitwits when you ain’t got half a Caegar.” 

“Bribery?” Of _course_ she doesn’t understand basic decency; that would make it too simple. The Signless feels pressed for time and his patience is fraying more quickly than he would care to admit, leaving behind a thin, patronizing veneer of politeness over a boiling ocean of sarcasm. He snaps, his grin dripping treacle and his eyes spitting venom. “My dear, you couldn’t be farther from the truth. I’m going to rob you blind and you’re going to _like_ it. Trust me, it will be better this way.” 

He really, _really_ dislikes her. That smile is… actually chilling. The Condesce is fascinated. What happens if she gleefully smashes that tiny little compressed bottle of rage into a thousand pieces and rubs his face all over the shards? The only thing that’s going to satisfy this craving is the howl of outrage he’s about to make when she bends him over on all fours and splits him open until his claws leave streaks in the wooden planks. What she needs is a really personal insult, preferably lifted straight from his most immediate insecurities. Time to test how strong these psychic bonds really are. 

She directs a forceful suggestion into his brain to coax him to let her go, stares him straight in the scarlet eyes and concentrates. 

He moves forward slightly, eyes glazed. He resists. He blinks, shakes his head and frowns. “Stop that.” 

“Stop what?” She grins a sharklike grin. Controlling him didn’t _quite_ work, but the Signless’s psyche is a wide open book. Dip a toe into this guy’s think pan and you get his whole life story. The desert, the insomnia, the uncertainty of securing one more meal, the prey’s instinct to hide drilled into him by a lifetime of being hunted. Little does he know he’s given her the perfect weapon – look at all the meat left on this bone. The Condesce carelessly flings the rest of the roast out the window and into the ocean with a small, well aimed dose of psionics. Leaving her hunger unsatisfied is a small price to pay for the absolute shock on his face. “Whoops, looks like someone ain’t havin’ dinner tonight. Lemme guess, is it you? Sacrificin’ yourshellf for all the sad, hungry wrigglers? Catch me a fish instead.” 

He’s snarling in her face in a fraction of a second. “What the EFFERVESCENT FUCK was the purpose of that petty exercise, you FROTHY PAIL OF SHAME LEAVINGS!? I SWEAR TO GOD I will HAND FEED YOU bite-sized morsels one by one like a toothless grub because you CLEARLY can’t be trusted to chew and swallow like a normal-” The Signless is also conveniently in horn groping range. She yanks him down into a kiss with a coo of amusement. Before he can decide between spite and self-indulgence, the hammock gives way under the combined weight of their bodies and they go tearing to the ground with a great crash, wrestling with the rope and fabric more than they are with each other. 

Well that escalated quickly. Erring on the side of caution, the Disciple pries them apart, sits heavily on the Condesce’s abdomen and wraps her strong arms around the Signless until his squirming, panting, elbowing body goes sulky and still, scowling with his arms crossed over hers. His face has gone bright red out to the tips of his ears. He probably wouldn’t appreciate being called adorable at the moment. “Kankri. Kankri listen to me. Do you need me to pap you?” 

“No.” God, he can still feel the impression of her fingers, faintly humming with psionics. 

“Shall I allow you two some purrivacy?” 

“No.” He just… needs a minute. 

Hot. The Condesce makes herself quite comfortable and studies the Disciple’s muscular ass, factoring her into the equation. Fuck, how does that even work? Four times the size of him, easy. Mutie must _like_ gettin’ split in half. “You can stay. I bet his bulge is tiny.” 

“Ha bloody ha, like I haven’t heard _that_ one before.” Fuck it, he needs a little stress relief. Self-indulgence it is. “Would you like to see me move a mountain with a shovel?” 

“Try me.” 

The Signless tips his head back to catch the Disciple’s eye, smiles at her, clears his throat and waves her aside with a little hand gesture. Oh this ought to be fun; far be it for her to get in the way of a shiny new ship in action. _Finally_. She always did say it was unhealthy for him not to express his hate. She plants a kiss on her purrecious overachieving sillyhead’s stubborn mouth before letting him go. Eager-eyed and giggling like a schoolgrub, the Disciple scoots just out of reach where she can curl up and watch closely. 

Straddling the Condesce with the knowing grin of a troll who knows how to make his presence felt, the Signless picks up right where they left off. The last kiss didn’t count; that disaster was two adult trolls losing to a piece of furniture and needs to be wiped from the record immediately. He tugs at her lips with his teeth and her hair with his hands, assertive but not rough. The Signless intends for her undoing to be slow, thorough, and devastating; no cutting corners; no missed details. His anger has settled back to a low simmer of contempt and he will not allow her to provoke him into impatience again. 

What’s with all this gentle bullshit? It pisses the Condesce off. She expects a fight and she expects to win. And maybe, just _maybe_ if the Signless struggles hard enough she’ll let him near her nook. Bring back the wrestlin’, beach. Psychic restraints or not, she still has the advantage of sheer body weight. She shifts onto her side, trying to bowl him over. He wrenches out of her grip and darts nimbly to the side, lunging in for a stolen kiss to the gills on her neck. Hnng, _fuck_ , only she gets to do that! The sneaky little- His body heat lingers on her skin like a ghost. One brush of the lips and a hot breath later she’s stupidly off balance, weak-kneed with the absence of it. 

He pushes her right back down to where she was before. His lips are on hers again, insistent, while his fingertips trace nonsensical little patterns into her hornbeds. “Stay.” A low purr, not even a threat. “Let’s not forget who has the bigger empire now.” 

Since when did his pretentious, nasal, claws-on-chalkboard to the sponge clot, I-deserve-a-punch-in-the-face voice turn into the siren’s song of Shut up Bulge, You’re Not Supposed to Try to Unsheathe This Early? That goes double for you, stupid nook fluids. Stupid breathing. Stupid everything. She mashes her face into his to stop herself from whining at him to do that again. Then when he pulls back slightly, she forgets to stop him from baring her neck, tipping her head back by the horns. All that matters are the searing hot stripes of pleasure as he swipes the tip of his tongue along each line of her opercula from corner to corner. He plants a row of sucking kisses into her jawline before repeating the maneuver on the other side. 

So soon and it’s already come down to cutting her losses. If she’s going to start cheeping like a wriggler begging for scraps, she’d at least better drag him down with her -by the ass. The growing damp spot beneath the fabric of her flight suit demands immediate attention, and she wedges her bone shield underneath the base of his sheath for emphasis. _Get down here and spread your nook for me._ Yeah, that’s more like it. The Signless’s eyes momentarily go glassy as he abandons her gills to sit back and grind down on the burrowing tip of her bulge. _Clothes. Off._

“Maybe one of these days I’ll teach you how to say ‘please’.” He has her flight suit peeled open to the waist before the Condesce realizes the Signless has brushed off her second mental intrusion like a whisper in the breeze. “Wouldn’t that be something?” He’s just sitting there like he has nowhere important to be, fingertips tracing the contours of her skin from shoulders to collarbone to rumble spheres. Those grievous pants are still on. 

“Don’t you _dare_ pretend you weren’t enjoyin’ that.” 

His twinkling eyes go wide with mock innocence. “I’m not enjoying myself immensely? Whatever gave you that idea?” 

_Fine_ , she’ll tear his clothes off herself. The stupid shackles are in the way. Growling low in her throat, the Condesce pulls Signless down flat, clutching him to her chest, and rolls him back onto the floor. There’s no way he’s going to catch her by surprise a second time. She pins him down by the chest and knees and leans in to yank his tights off with her teeth. Behind her, the Disciple lets out a whoop of approval. 

If there’s one thing the Signless and the Condesce can both appreciate, it’s putting on a good show. For now he goes along with it instead of struggling, stretching his hands up above his head and making eyes at his matesprit. This is still going slower than the Condesce would like, but she enjoys the little sigh that escapes his lips as she reaches below his waistline and frees his bulge, bright crimson and dripping for her. She paws his tights off his ankles and out of the way. Lacking the proper use of her hands, she wedges his legs open with her shoulders while she shimmies the rest of the way out of her flight suit with some difficulty. Fuck yes, it’s a relief to taste the open air on her bulge. Let’s have a good look at that nook. She can’t wait to get inside. 

Deep down in his little black heart (the one he doesn’t admit to having), The Signless is endlessly amused watching the Condesce struggle with her well-deserved chains. He could let her have her way and ride her bulge into blissful oblivion, but _why_ , when in her disadvantaged state he has the tantalizing opportunity to have it _his_ way, just once? As she surges back up along his body, probing at the lips of his nook with the tip of her bulge, he coils his bulge around hers and pulls it up and away. Then he wrestles back. _Really_ wrestles back, leveraging every muscle and every dirty trick he can think of. He pushes. He shoves. He arches. He kicks. He elbows. He bites. He digs his thumbs into her grub scars, prying his fingers into the second set of gills along her sides. Too… heavy. He can barely make her budge other than to counter his rhythm. Well it was worth a try, anyway. “I can cheat, you know. You gave me full license to do so.” 

“Like fuck I did.” 

“Meulin, a little help please?” 

The Disciple hefts the Condesce onto her back much more easily, giggling as she sandwiches the Signless’s body with her own. 

“Hey! No fair!” 

“Oh I can tell you what isn’t _fair_. When a warmblood is culled for having a broken leg and a coldblood gets an expensive prosthetic, _that’s_ unfair. When trolls are coerced into producing slurry regardless of how unsuitable their concupiscent quadrantmates may be and then the resulting weaker grubs are culled before they ever have a chance at life, _that’s_ unfair. When one troll’s riches are paid for by the slavery of a thousand others, _that’s_ unfair. This?” Signless squeezes tight around her, dragging the coils of his bulge up and down along hers. “ _This_ is personal.” 

“Do you ever shut up?” So mutie wants to do all the work, huh? Maybe she would let him, if he would just. Go. _Faster_. She sets a driving rhythm with her hips. 

“Not on your life.” The more she struggles, the slower he will go. Signless loosens the grip of his bulge so thoroughly he leaves the Condesce with little more than air to brush up against as he presses his ass back into the Disciple instead. “So help me god, I am going to _make_ you care if it takes me a hundred sweeps.” 

Or, the Condesce could turn Signless’s reinforcements against him and make out with the Disciple instead. The oliveblood likes to use her tongue, rough, nimble and pleasantly warm. She is an immutable force, and when her body rocks, the Signless rocks helplessly with her. There is a very long, very wet sound as the Disciple unsheathes, trapping both of their bulges in hers. “A hundred sweeps, Kankri?” she pulls back and breathes into his hear. “I’m not going to wait that long.” 

_That_ makes him squirm. “ _Yeah_ , put your back into it buoy.” She is _massive_. His stubborn streak didn’t stand a chance. Even the Condesce can hardly decide between the idea of taking the Disciple’s impressive bulge for a test run herself or seeing the look on the Signless’s face while trying to fit that entire monstrosity in his nook. Hmm, which would be more fun? 

“You gonna let me in your nook anytime soon?” 

“Only if you let me in yours, like _equals_. Open up.” 

“ _Fin._ We’ll see who’s ‘equal’ when you can’t take my entire bulge without cryin’ like a wriggler.” 

Signless spreads his legs wide and looks her dead in the eye. One doesn’t manage to evade the authorities for so long without learning how to be quiet when necessary. Deliberately relaxed, he doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t even breathe as he tilts his hips in a practiced motion, guiding the Condesce up through the curves and contours of his nook. He allows a soft sigh of satisfaction as she reaches past his seed flap, curling all the way to the roof of his gene bladder. Her bulge feels so deliciously cold it makes him shiver. 

“ _Scream_ , you basshole!” The words are becoming harder and harder to form between gasps. How the fuck is he so calm and collected with a nook soaking wet and eager enough to glide like melting ice? “Stop holdin’ back!” 

“Disappointed?” Score, he managed to piss her off with both words _and_ silence. “I’m going to have to fix that.” You see, the advantage to having a shorter, thinner bulge is the flexibility, especially closer to the base. The Condesce can barely move enough to get any friction on his globes that he doesn’t apply there with his own hips; by contrast the Signless can easily zero in on her globes and give them a good thrashing. 

His bulge, his nook, his skin; she can’t take it anymore; she moans. Holy _fuck_ , the temperature difference almost _hurts_. A thermal vent, that’s what he’s like. In the deepest, blackest trenches where she half expects to confront a creature bigger than her lusus, where there’s nothing but slowly falling dust motes of dead shit and boredom for hundreds of miles, the bioluminescence of her skin suddenly reveals a colorful riot of life, an entire scalding ecosystem mutated so far beyond recognition it has never seen the moonlight; beautiful and deadly. 

“Ohh _fuck_ , _there_ , no, no, no, don’t you dare make me pail first! _Higher._ Fill me up. Gimme all your hot slurry, I need to know what it feels like.” 

Intriguing, maybe there’s hope for her yet. This is quite the turnaround compared to her initial single-minded quest to get at his nook. “Do you have anything else to add? Go on, I’m listening.” 

“Try to take _her_ entire bulge without cryin’ like a wriggler,” the Condesce chirrs breathlessly as she thrashes the tip of her bulge in his seed flap, sending an arc of psionics from the base to the tip. “That’s what I wanna sea.” 

Signless responds with an appreciative chirp of his own, propped up on his elbows and unhurriedly grinding against the base of her bulge. “Under one condition: ask nicely.” 

“ _Please_ , you sulfur-guzzling tube worm.” 

“You got it on your first try! Oh honey, I’m so _proud_ of you.” 

“Yo cat ears, fuck him up already before I rip his obnoxious tongue out.” 

“Do that and I’ll claw your face off,” the Disciple threatens back cheerfully. 

“Ladies, please, violence is not conducive to- good _gracious_ Meulin, I draw the line at two simultaneous bulges of greater than average size.” 

“Whiner.” 

The Condesce earns a merciless bulge lashing for that one. “I still want to be able to walk today, thank you very much.” 

“Nyaah, she won’t get out of the way.” 

“ _Hnngh,_ , alright, alright, I was just kiddin’. Worth it for the look on your face.” The Condesce peels her bulge away, leaving it trying to coil on itself in anticipation. The previous look of alarm on the Signless’s face pales in comparison to the way his breath hitches and his eyes go huge when the Disciple takes a crack at him. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Yeah, pail him into fish paste.” 

She doesn’t have to listen to the ex-Empress if she doesn’t want to, but sometimes a little cat pun goes a long way. A long, _long_ way. By the time the Disciple reaches the end of her lover’s gene bladder she has to double back a little. It isn’t exactly comfortable, but it also isn’t a position she has to hold for long. Too thick and inflexible to thrash, she simply pulls back and begins the process all over again, faster and slower to suit her mood. Every time she passes over his globes, he whimpers a little. 

The Condesce gets the hint. Add a little psionics to the Signless’s globes with just the right timing and presto, he looks ridiculous. He’s up on his knees at one end slamming his hips back into the Disciple, and at the other he has his face buried somewhere between the Condesce’s cleavage and his arms, biting into his own wrist. “Hey blubbermouth, where do you think your bulge is goin’ huh? Get back in here. And stop hidin’ in my rumble spheres.” 

All she gets in return is a muffled non-committal whine, but now the Disciple is working in her favour. The Disciple flattens him back down with her body weight until he’s right where the Condesce wants him to be, using her bulge to wrangle his back into her nook as it whips and coils helplessly. The Condesce grabs a great fistful of his hair and tips his head back as the Disciple plows into him, eyes hungrily glued to his expression. Adorabubble the way he scrunches his eyes up and bites his lip. 

“Alright, so we got a bargain. How boat if I embarrass myshellf even more and say ‘pretty please’? Can I getcha to scream reel nice?” She stretches her psionics as far as the limiters will allow her, spiraling up and down the length of the Disciple’s bulge. The Disciple jerks into him hard and it works; Signless is finally every bit as loud as she expected him to be when he fucking loses it. Stuck on the note of one long wail, his whole body shudders like he’s been hit by an earthquake. 

The Condesce won’t let him collapse in the aftermath. “I said _all_ of your slurry, not just your bulge. Get your nook over here.” A much smaller body means much less slurry capacity, and she’s going to wring every last drop out of him. Pliant and agreeable post-orgasm, Signless lets her pick him up by the waist, peel him off the Disciple’s bulge and sit him in her lap, where she drapes one leg over him and pulls him close until his nook lips are flush with hers. She reaches up with her psionics and _pulls_. “Let go.” 

He throws his head back and trills. He obeys. She’s enjoying every second of the molten hot pressure in her gene bladder. 

Too worked up to accept a demotion back to passive observer, the Disciple wraps her arms around him and scoops up Signless from behind, wrestling the Condesce’s bulge into a headlock with an impatient growl. She licks affectionately at the base of one horn until he cheeps and shivers, a physical reminder of where he rightfully belongs. “Get her gills Kankri. I want her nook.” 

Half snuggles, half savagery, Signless purrs giddily as he sets his tongue and his fingers back to work. There is no way the Condesce is going to be able to hold on to his slurry for long. She spreads her legs in a real hurry as the Disciple’s bulge burrows home, digging into her seed flap like she’s trying to pry it open. Oh fuck is it ever effective, she’s so _close_ to something – clench or spill, who the fuck even knows anymore? “Yes! Yes! Yes! You dirty fuckin’ cheaters!” Never mind that this is exactly what she would have demanded herself and more; the only way to exact revenge is to curl back into the wet heat of Signless’s oversensitive nook and find out how many lashes it really takes to break him. 

Signless clenches around her with a colorful string of oaths, holding his own even as his body trembles. He is loved; he is safe; the Disciple is his rock. Her strong arms ground him and her kisses soothe him. Then the Condesce elbows him in the globes with her psionics and all his higher thought processes crash and burn. He is blind; she may as well have struck his retinas with lightning. There’s nothing left of him but a wild animal with arching hips and gnashing teeth. 

The Condesce manages one last parting shot to the Disciple’s globes before it becomes impossible to concentrate. Her body is trying to pail and release at the same time and she can’t; the Disciple’s warm slurry is gushing in the opposite direction with her bulge firmly blocking the way. As the last spasms fade she’s never felt so full in recent memory, but there’s clearly someone who needs a bucket more than she does. Signless squirms his way free like an unwary traveller floundering in quicksand. 

With his gene bladder filled so taut it makes his eyes water, Signless gingerly toddles over to his bucket to relieve himself. Now _that’s_ how to make him cry! The Condesce finds his expression hysterical- his face is as pinched as his walk- and nearly ends up losing her own load in a fit of rude snorting giggles before she can manage to negotiate another bucket around her chains. His eyebrows disapprove. She cracks the fuck up and spills, gasps of laughter giving way to a pleased moan. Feels good, laughing and letting go. “Wow, that’s an ugly shade of brown.” 

The insult flies right over Signless’s head while he’s too busy releasing a bucket load to care about anything anywhere. When he’s finished he collapses onto his back next to it with one arm draped over his abdomen, staring dazedly at the ceiling like it holds all the answers to the universe. “God, I needed that.” 

“Ya know, I think I’m starting to like you betta. Cuddles?” 

“I’m not moving, but feel free.” 

It takes a few seconds before the Condesce decides this effrontery is worth the effort. He’s so warm. 

There’s still enough room left for the Disciple to use the same bucket after him. One final yowl, then all is quiet for a long moment as she settles down on the opposite side of him. 

“Kankitty, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” 

“Hm?” 

The Condesce is thoroughly annoyed that no amount of craning her head lets her catch what the Disciple just whispered into his ear. 

“You’re right dear, how remiss of me.” Signless turns to the Condesce and asks, “Aren’t you dying for a bath after wandering in the desert for days?” 

Somethin’s fishy as hell. “What happens if I say yes?” 

“Then we’re not done with you yet.” 

And that’s how she ends up with the Signless massaging her scalp and the Disciple brushing the tangles out of her hair, wondering how she lost control of her life. “What the fuck quadrant is this?” 

“Are you enjoying it?” 

“…” This is the most fun she’s ever had without money. 

“Then does it matter?” 

“……” Mother glub, she’s actually starting to understand his logic. 

“Okay I’ll tell you.” He leans in close and stage whispers with a conspiratorial wink, “That was the bribe.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not dead! This idea came to me while I was on vacation in May and it refused to let go of me until I was finished. Took forever to get something I was satisfied with. Now I can finally go back to writing Bananas and Shame. :'D


End file.
